


Psypernatu- Superpsychur- Psysuperch?

by Nevcolleil



Category: Psych (TV 2006), Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:08:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28394394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevcolleil/pseuds/Nevcolleil
Summary: [I tried giving this collection of Psych/Supernatural crossover ficlets a Shawn Spencer-ishportmanteau but failed. Read them anyway.]
Kudos: 7





	1. Kids Say the Darnedest Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then there's Shawn
> 
> Hunters are a suspicious lot. Instincts like Henry's? They admire. 
> 
> Instincts like Shawn's... They fear.

Henry doesn't necessarily prefer hunters' bars to any other kind. He enjoys touching base with his own "kind" from time to time, not having to invent a reason to talk about this grisly murder or that pagan ritual (hunters talk about little else.) With hunting, word of mouth can be as useful as any other kind of intel, sometimes more, and unlike with police work, Henry doesn't have to vouch for his "source" when he gets a word-of-mouth lead on a hunt. His informant's credibility? Is in the fact that the guy is still breathing.

But there are drawbacks to visiting a hunter's bar, too. Hunters who see him at Harvelle's - or Roadsters or The Cricket - then see him in uniform, often assume Henry's going to bolster their half-assed aliases on hunts that overlap official police business. Gathering in a large group that any vengeance-minded demon could target with half a summoning spell and a good nose goes against all of Henry's instincts. ("Police bars" get hit by criminals all the time. Henry figures it's just a matter of time before the non-human criminal element pick up the fad.)

And then there's Shawn.

Hunters are a suspicious lot. Instincts like Henry's? They admire. Instincts like Shawn's, they fear. They mistrust. Luckily, Shawn is an irreverant little shit, and a lot of hunters are too full of themselves to conceive of a boy having sharper skills of observation than them, so Henry rarely has to seriously worry that someone's going to take Shawn's "gift" the wrong way.

 _Unluckily_ , Shawn's mouth... There isn't any other way to take that. Shawn is _always_ pissing someone off in a hunter's bar.

"Well, hello, Henry," the pretty lady at the counter coos a greeting as Henry takes a seat and Shawn crawls up onto the stool beside him. "Hello, Shawn," she greets Henry's son.

"Hello, Cheryl." Henry smiles politely.

Shawn wastes no time tonight. He stretches across the bar and hooks the bowl of pretzels sitting nearby with a finger, dragging it into his reach and spilling the stale snacks across the scarred bartop in the process.

"He's still not married, Cheryl. But he's still not interested either."

"Shawn."

Cheryl's Passionfruit Pink smile deflates like a punctured balloon.

"What? She hits on you _every_ time we come in here and I don't know why! You always turn her down and she was just necking outside with that ginger biker sitting by the jukebox."

Cheryl's unhappy glare eases into wide-eyed confusion as Henry looks around and - sure enough, there's a red-headed guy in leathers amongst the Saturday night crowd, carousing with his buddies on the other side of the bar.

"What- How did you-"

"There's a long, red hair hanging off your left shirt sleeve and he's the only red-head in here. I know, I looked." They've been in this bar maybe five minutes. It's the first time Henry's ever taken Shawn inside with him. "Also, your lipstick's all smudged and what's wrong with _Carl_? It was supposed to be true love, right?"

Even Henry has to look for clues as to where Shawn's going with that one. It takes him a minute, but eventually he sees the faded ink on the bicep of a big brute standing near the pool tables. 'Carl + Cherry' says the tattoo above a curlicue script of the words 'True Love'. Looking at Cheryl again, Henry can see a tiny corner of a similar tat on the side of her slender neck, hidden beneath her big, blonde curls.

Henry sighs.

"What the hell is-"

"Kids these days," Henry says, climbing off of his not-yet-warm stool. "They make up the craziest stuff."

"Now can we go to Plucky Pennywhistle's Magical Menagerie?" Shawn whines. "I wanna go bug the clowns."

'Better them than me,' Henry decides.

"Yeah, fine. Whatever."

Henry gets his kid out of Dodge before 'Cherry' can really throw a fit. Shawn is going to be one hell of a scary-good hunter one day...

If he and Henry can both survive his 'precocious pre-teen' phase.


	2. Psychic Demon Army Captain Was Not An Option Listed On My ASVAB Exam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You were chosen, Shawn. You are destined to do great things."
> 
> "Uh... Yeah," Shawn said. "Says you and about a dozen school counselors."

"You know, you aren't like any of the others."

"Aw. I bet you say that to all the psychics you stalk like a creepy... stalker guy."

Shawn blinked - a lot - but the dude's eyes stayed gold, and glowy, and all-together creep-tastic. He was smiling. The smile made him even creepier.

'Creepy' had become Shawn's word of the day.

"Eh. Maybe. You're all rather... unique. But in your case, I especially mean it. You were gifted before I'd even come to you."

Shawn backed away. "Creepy Guy" (he called himself _Azazel_ \- like that's a real name) was slowly, steadily advancing.

Shawn didn't know what "gift" Azazel was talking about; didn't know - and wasn't sure he _wanted_ to know - just when Azazel had supposedly come to him (as far as Shawn could remember, they had never met before, and Shawn's memory was more reliable than most.)

"Right. Well. Thanks, I guess. But if it's all the same to you, I'd rather go be special somewhere with someone who _doesn't_ have the whole spooky, glowy eyes thing going on, so-" Shawn motioned for the door and turned towards it, only to jump back and shriek when he found Azazel once again standing straight ahead in his path.

Shawn's head jerked to and fro as he looked from Azazel, to where Azazel had been standing only a moment before, and back.

"You- You just- You-"

"I'm afraid it's not all the same to me," Azazel was saying, his smile slowly fading and the glint of his gaze taking on a menacing edge. "You were _chosen_ , Shawn. You are destined to do great things."

"Uh... Yeah. Says you and about a dozen school counselors," Shawn said, as coolly as possible. Which, for Shawn, meant he tried to keep the sweating and shaky and gulping in fear to a pathetic but manageable minimum. "But if this is about that ASVAB I cheated on? One, you're a little late. I graduated, like, a decade ago. And two? You take career placement examinations _way_ too seriously, dude."

"You're not in high school any more, Shawn," Azazel said. "And your place? Is at my side in the coming apocalypse."

That... didn't sound good. Which meant it most certainly wasn't.

"Yeah... I'm going to scream and run away now,” Shawn announced.

And he tried to do just that. It didn’t work so well. Azazel followed him, but this time-

This time, when Azazel appeared in Shawn’s path and Shawn freaked out - squealing and slapping at the air as if he could swat Azazel away like a fly…

Azazel jerked as if smacked and flew halfway across the store, taking rows of shelves and store displays down with him. Like Shawn actually _had_ swatted him away like a fly…

Shawn stared at his own hand for long moments before wising up and taking off while he had the opportunity.

‘Gift,’ Azazel had said. Once Shawn had gotten home, fainted in terror, awakened and called Gus… He would have to think about the implications of that.

Assuming that none of this had been a very, very strange dream.


End file.
